Walking Shadows

“I’ll tell you everything I know. But it would be helpful to meet in person.”

“Where? Hamilton police station?”

“Uh, if you could, I’d rather meet at the Greenbury station. Your brother died in our jurisdiction, so we’re running the investigation. I don’t want to intrude on Hamilton’s space. If it’s too far for you to travel, I’ll come to you.”

“I almost never go to Greenbury. It would take me like a half hour to get there.”

“Like I said, I can come to you.”

“No, I’d rather meet at a police station, no offense. I don’t know who you are.”

“I think that’s prudent of you. When can you come down?”

“Not now. It’s two o’clock. I’m still at work. I suppose I can make it around seven.”

“That would be fine.” He gave her the address of the station house and his cell number. “I’ll see you around seven. Please call if there’s any change of plans. And thank you very much.”

She spoke before he could hang up. “Where is my brother now?”

“He’s still at the morgue.”

“And if you got my number from my mother, she must know, right?”

“She does.”

“Ah, Jesus! This is just horrible … just terrible.”

“It is terrible. I’m very sorry.”

“Did he suffer?”

“No,” Decker told her.

Not a lie, not the truth. He didn’t know one way or the other, and since he didn’t know, there was no reason to cause her any further misery.

CHAPTER 5 (#u821569d5-299d-5eb0-b818-90f997b5f7d2)

DASH HARDEN SAT in the chair. His manner said defiance while his face said fear. He was used to vandalizing—a nonconfrontational crime—and now, he was face-to-face with the enemy. He was eighteen and stood about five eleven, his body slowly turning into a man’s, with the wiry arms giving way to actual muscle. Light brown hair and a face spangled with freckles and acne. His hair was cut short, his features more bulldog than eagle. He kept insisting he had been home all night. Since Decker didn’t have any proof that Dash had vandalized, he told Lennie Baccus that he’d be stretching the truth a little. Her job was to listen and take notes, especially the nonverbal reactions, because the interview was being recorded. Concentrating on things like the kid’s posture, his fidgetiness, what he did with his hands, eye contact with Decker, eyes looking up or looking down or away. While words were easier to understand superficially, gestures almost always told the truth.

“Dash, it’s the third time those mailboxes have been overturned,” Decker said. “We installed a closed-circuit TV camera after the second time.” That part was true. “You and your friends were caught on tape.”

Shaking leg. “I wasn’t there.”

Decker had yet to tell the kid about Brady Neil. He and Dash had been at it for twenty minutes, so it was time to turn up the heat. “Do you really think I’d go through all this trouble to interview you here if it was just about a couple of broken mailboxes? Well, more than a couple of broken mailboxes. Anyway, that’s not what I’m after.”

Harden continued to squirm. “I wasn’t there.”

“Yes, you were.”

Sweat on his forehead. “I swear I wasn’t.”

“You were there.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“I saw you on CCTV.”

A long pause. “It wasn’t me.”

“Okay, it wasn’t you.”

The kid’s face brightened. “I can go?”

“No, you can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Because I saw you on tape, and what I saw matters more than what you say.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Dash, your buddies and you have been vandalizing mailboxes, walls, street signs, and buildings in Greenbury for a long time. Then you run back to Hamilton, where you think you’re safe. Not this time. Just tell the truth and you’re done here.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“Yes, you were.” Decker poured the kid a drink of water. “Son, the first one of your gang to tell the truth gets the most leniency, because you’re all going to be charged. I know that you know about the dead body. That means I bump up the charges from destruction of property—federal property—to murder—”

The kid jumped out of his seat. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I believe you, Dash.” The kid was quiet. “Come on. Sit back down.”

The kid cooperated.

“Tell me what you know about it.”

More sweat on his pimply forehead. “Sir, I don’t know anything about a dead body.”

Decker looked at Lennie and gave her a slight eye roll. “Dash, I think you’re a good kid. You’re the first one who came in to talk to us. And that’s why you’ll get leniency if you start telling me what really happened. If you don’t talk, you’ll force my hand. Then I go over to the next interview room, where my colleague is making the same offer to Chris Gingold.”

“I don’t need an offer.” He bounced his leg up and down. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Okay, you didn’t do anything. Tell me what you know.”

“I know my rights. I can ask for a lawyer.”

“I haven’t charged you with anything. But if I do charge you and you get a lawyer, he or she is going to tell you the same thing. Start talking. It’s your best chance. Otherwise all of you will be charged with murder. You were on the tape; you were all there.”

“If there really is a tape, then you’d know that we had nothing to do with it.”